To Love A Stark I
by LiviLottie
Summary: -Rewrite- She's a lioness, He's a wolf. What she's feeling goes against everything she's ever being taught. Igraine Lannister finds herself in the Wolf's den and she may not escape with her heart. Robb/OC


**A/N: I was inspired by Bells (A guests) review upon TLAS. She saw Dianna Agron as Rae and for some reason this just helped me envision such a better story. I like to think my writing has matured a lot so, in turn so have my ideas. So just a word of warning this is a lot more dangerous and brutal than my past story. That admittedly was a happy AU, This is a more realistic world. I hope you enjoy reading and this chapters dedicated to you Endozo!**

* * *

_"__To beguile the time, Look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue. Look like th' innocent flower, But be the serpent under 't."  
-Lady Macbeth, Act One, Scene 5_

* * *

The day began as normal as could be expected for Casterly Rock in the famous fortress of the Lannister's. Lady Igraine lay draped across a fine silk chair which cushioned her back against the hard oak as she dwelled in the solitude of her own company as a thick heavy book lay in her lap, The only sound which could be heard were the turning of her page. It was peaceful as the sun beamed through the stain glass, Projecting the image of Lann the Clever, drenched in silks of red and gold, onto her sun kissed skin. Her eyes moved left from right as they moved scanning down the page. Igraine had picked the book in passing, The legend of king Arthur. It was book she'd seen many times before, though the cover had never appealed to her that is until today. Something had changed within her, and quite frankly she was glad. The book was magnificent, easily one of her favourite, It had romance, adventure, loyalty and honour. All the things real life seemed to lack. Fiction somehow made life bearable, It allowed the fantasy of love while life seemed to just be one harsh event after the other. Igraine was lost in her thoughts when a guard entered the library.

"My Lady Lannister, Your lord father requests your presence in his study."

"Yes, Right away."

"I am to accompany you, My Lady."

"Lead on then, sir." The young man nodded and allowed his eyes to linger on his face a moment too long. Rolling her eyes she continued after, You see Igraine wasn't so silver tongued as her siblings, in fact she was rather the opposite, She much preferred books over people. That was probably one of the many reasons she remained unwed.

You see, Rae was beautiful, perhaps not in the traditional way, but she was certainly facinatiting to glance at with her unusual charm. The young woman had long dirty-blonde hair that fell to her waist—much like her older brother Tyrion's, paired with her father's hard features and jaw-line and a mossy green pair of eyes to match Jaime and Cersei's. She was told they were akin to her mothers. Though she would never be sure; her mother had died giving birth to her. A fact Cersei had always resented her for; making sure that any half hearted knowledge she had of her mother came from her brothers.

Igraine walked down the empty halls usually bustling with staff though at this particular time, they were eerily quiet. The guard who's name had escaped her stopped in front of the looming oak door as dread started to settle in the pit of her stomach. Rae breathed in deeply, her button nose scrunching, before she rapt her bare knuckles against the door twice.

"Enter." She heard her fathers voice command. Igraine pushed it open, with a heave and let it slam behind her, in an attempt to ruffle her fathers feathers. Though he seemed to give her no thought-As per usual. She walked forward and stood before his desk, her hand crossed over one another and placed before her, as her septa had taught her. Rolling her eyes she hesitantly inquired "You wished to see me, Father?"

"You're late."

"You have my apologies, Father."

"I don't want your apologies, I want my time back." He glared at his youngest daughter as the words left his mouth. "You are to marry the Stark heir in a moons time."

Igraine paused, her ears disbelieving as she listened. Her thoughts climbed over one another in a made race to make it to the forefront of her mind. So absorbed in her shock no words left her mouth.

"W... Why father?"

"You have remained un-wed for too long. I've allowed it up until now. But a bond needs to be made to ensure those, _Northerners_ gain no more power."

"So you sell me to the highest bidder, to meet your ends?" The words left her mouth before she could rein them in.

"You are my daughter and you will do as I tell you. No longer will you disgrace this family."

"But-"

"_**Enough**_!" Tywin's voice boomed, Making the young woman jump "To ensure the survival of our house, everyone must make sacrifices."

"Its easy to say when your not the one sacrificing anything." Igraine spoke her voice barely above a whisper, Though he heard. Her fathers eyes flashed to hers in a fit of rage.

"I will hear no more. You leave tomorrow, _Now get out of my sight_." Igraine's nails dug into her palms as she restrained herself. Her father had never struck her but she didn't imagine for one second that he wouldn't. She nodded and turned to leave for her chambers, to go and pack for her new cage as she left one prison to be bound by another much more permanent one.

Fear had ignited in the pit of her stomach as she thought of her years to come. The northerners were nothing but barbarians according to Jaime, They ate the flesh of their dead; Though in hindsight that may of been her older brother trying to frighten her before bed.

Was that what she was to become? Igraine Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Hidden away in the cold and mud, Doomed for an unhappy marriage, She sighed as her maids scurried round her. Though she supposed it could be worse, she could be engaged to Maester Pycelle, Quite frankly she'd rather slit her own throat than to go anywhere near his manhood. Igraine stared into the mirror, Her honey locks were pulled back as they fell in a natural wave down her back and her face was sour and miserable. Cersei had once told her to never let anyone see what you felt inside, to hide behind her mask of a flower but be the serpent that dwelled beneath.

Heeding her sisters advice, she took a deep breath and then looked into the mirror once more. She amended her smile; She'd make them believe that this was the best thing that had ever happened to her, Then she'd use the brute to make sure her father never bothered her again.

* * *

They left at dawn the next morning. Her father never came from his chambers to see her off or say goodbye, She doubted he would come to her marriage ceremony either. She had never hated a man as much as she did him. Not only for her mistreatment but the mistreatment of Tyrion, The old man could die scared and alone for all she cared.

Guard captain Alric came to her side as they rode "What do you know of Robb Stark?" She questioned her voice holding every shred of dignity she could muster.

"He's 20, Heir to the chair of house Stark. From what I hear he's quite handsome." He smirked lewdly at her. Glaring at the vermin in front of her. She bit out "You should learn your place."

The man visibly paled and with a curt "Yes, Milady" he quickly sunk back in line.

* * *

It took another two weeks of hard and fast travelling before they arrived at the Winterfell gates. Her guards had soon tired of leering at her and became silent in her presence; something she thanked the God's for. She had finished her five books in her first week and she had gone seven without any reading material. Her head felt like it was going to implode, the only thing that soothed her was the thought of a whole new library with new tales, new romances and new adventures to be discovered. If she was forced to live a life in the miserable cold, the least she could do is read about another's life who had everything she desired. Fiction helped her in times of sadness, It let her know that she wasn't alone. It gave her some hope for the world. Though that hope seemed to be running out little by little.

Finally the great stone castle became visible, The turrets were truly beautiful. The mist cooled her skin and some how made the air easier to breathe. It was like something out of her books, as she trotted down the streets. Commoners stopped to watch the new comer enter, probably wondering who she was. People were so pale here, and her skin bronzed by a lifetime of sunshine made her stand out immensely, She reasoned she must stand out exotically.

Her patrol stopped in front a gathering of people. Igraine lifted her leg to sit side saddle, as she waited for someone to help her down. A thick gloved hand was offered to her, As her moss orbs followed the arm they met with its owners. His eyes were an icy blue, They held the depth of the sky and sea combined. He had an arrogant tilt to his head... His noble blood evident in the way he held himself. Her eyes scanned up his face and to her relief he didn't inherit his mothers crimson locks, Considering the tales she'd heard of it's vibrancy. She'd been fearing for the hair colour of their off spring as soon as she'd heard he was of Tully Blood. Alric had spoke true, Robb Stark was a handsome specimen, Though there was a hardness to him, that suggested he didn't trust her for a moment.

Shaking herself out of her stupor she placed both hands on his shoulders as her septa had taught her in great length. His warm hands came to rest around her waist as his thick arms lifted her from her horse with ease as she landed before him. Her probing eyes had done him no justice in the height department. Robb Stark towered over her dangerously, his face held no smile, Just a thunderous air of duty.

The oldest Stark child took her hand in his, and placed a chaste kiss upon the cold limb. "My Lady, To finally meet you brings me great pleasure."

Igraine wanted to laugh in his face, he looked anything but pleased with this arrangement but alas she decided to humour him.

"My Lord, I could not imagine anywhere else I would rather be." Eye lashes fluttering and her honey toned voice dripping with condescension that could cut through glass. But the pragmatic truths that lay beneath lingered as her face gave a sly smirk at his glare. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad, if they both were playing this game. _**Though the thing about games is, There's always a loser.**_


End file.
